


To Let Fear Hang the Moon

by Fantastic Beasts and Where 2 Fondle Them (WideTheWaters)



Series: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Fondle Them [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Anal Sex, BAMF Luna Lovegood, Backstory, Bathtubs, Boggarts, Breathplay, Choosing Pronouns, Claustrophilia, Closets, Crack Treated Seriously, Creature Fic, Curses, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Exophilia, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fantastic Beasts And Where to Fondle Them, Fear, First Time, For Science!, Fur, Gender Identity, Gratuitous Smut, Hanging Out, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermaphrodites, House Elves, Human/Monster Romance, Imperius, Imperiused Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Impregnation, Inheritance, Interspecies, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Magical Inheritance, Magizoology (Harry Potter), Marriage Proposal, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Non-Human Genitalia, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Other, Pansexual Luna Lovegood, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Purebloods (Harry Potter), Purring, Rape/Non-con Elements, Research, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Tongue, Roughness, Scary, Shapeshifting, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Starring Luna Lovegood, Tail Sex, Tails, Teratophilia, Tight Spaces, Vaginal Sex, Why Did I Write This?, Xenophilia, creature luna lovegood, there's still plenty of porn but the plot needed a moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-01 03:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WideTheWaters/pseuds/Fantastic%20Beasts%20and%20Where%202%20Fondle%20Them
Summary: Intrepid but slightly-the-worse-for-wear Magizoologist Luna Lovegood is stuck at Grimmauld Place to recuperate after being injured in the spirited pursuit of knowledge of the  merfolk of the Galapagos Islands.  While her expedition is on hold, she finally has the opportunity to study a Boggart - a creature she suspects has been incorrectly classified by the Ministry of Magic which she been itching to study up close for years.The Boggart, however, ends up being a lot more than Luna bargained for.  Her fears of both the past and future laid bare, Luna finds herself in the position to help a long-cursed species, learn if she can trust a lover's resolve, AND reclaim her birthright - if she can pay the price.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Original Character(s), Luna Lovegood/Original Non-Human Character(s), Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Series: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Fondle Them [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533881
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	To Let Fear Hang the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Luna meets a Boggart in this story, and it plays on fears that include non-consensual sex when they meet. 
> 
> No beta right now warning: please pardon typos, which I will correct as I can.

## 

##  _ 2011, 12 Grimmauld Place, London, UK _

Luna appeared in Harry’s kitchen with a stumble and an unpleasant lurch of her stomach. On shaky legs, she caught herself on the edge of the table beside her, in a cozy, informal dining nook, and eased herself down onto a comfortably upholstered bench alongside it. With a little moan at the way the room had kept spinning, she let herself fall back along its length, feet still on the floor as she reclined and blinked up at a cheery stained glass lamp hanging overhead. The lamp featured images of stylized dragon hatchlings of various species on a backdrop of greens and blues.

The teaspoon portkey drooped in her fingers and fell to the tiled floor with a clatter. 

Almost immediately following that, there was a loud _ crack _. “Mistress Luna? Hrmmph. Kreacher might have known he would meet you again like this.” 

Luna smiled vaguely and rolled her head toward the voice, focusing on the dour elf, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to glower at her but not succeeding in suppressing little looks of concern. “Ah. Hello again, sir. I do hope you don’t mind my dropping in unannounced. Harry and Hermione insisted I take their return portkey, you see.”

“Yes, they had _ fretted _about you.” Kreacher dropped his hands to his hips. “Well, then, Kreacher supposes mistress would like some tea, then. And…” he examined her, his head tilting to get a better look. “And scones and eggs. Yes. Rest, then, Kreacher will see to it.” 

He waddled off shaking his head and grumbling to himself about reckless youngsters these days. Amid clangs of pots and sounds of lighting burners and running water, Luna also caught something about far too skinny, and about how _ Kreacher _ had to wear clothes, oh, but the Mistress Luna came halfway around the world in scarcely a thread. 

She _ was _ a bit cold. It was winter, back here in England. She twitched up her wand and cast a warming charm on herself, relaxing a bit as the gooseflesh smoothed from her bikini-clad skin. She wasn’t much of a fan of the bikini, either, she thought with a sigh, but Hermione would not hear of her making introductions wearing nothing, and had been very firm on the point.

Hermione, she thought, smiling dreamily. Hermione had said she was appointing herself Luna’s big sister. Luna had never had any siblings before. For a moment, Luna just reflected on the last few days, her heart swelling with love and the feeling that she _ was _ loved. As much as she hadn’t wanted to have to take this forced break from the expedition, she had never really experienced being worried over before, at least not since her mother died. She understood her father had been concerned when the Death Eaters had taken her, too, but she never got to see that herself. According to their neighbor, Molly Weasley, Luna looked quite like her mother, and Xenophilius had what Mrs. Weasley found a worrying tendency to_ treat her_ like he had her mother - encouraging risk and audacity and experimentation rather than nurturing and expressing concerns - even after such traits had already led to incredible family tragedy. 

Dimly, she realized that Kreacher was crouched over the hearth, talking to someone through the fire while something sizzled on the stove.

##  _ ❧ _

Luna woke cradled in warm, strong arms, a familiar hand smoothing her hair back from her face and a familiar soft murmur carrying on a quiet conversation with Kreacher. She turned into the warmth, nuzzling into a soft jumper that smelled pleasantly of potting soil and growing things as she felt a blanket being tucked around her. 

With her eyes still closed, she greeted him. “Hello, Neville. You’re _ here. _”

She felt a firm, warm kiss be planted on her forehead. “Hi, love. I’m going to sit you up a bit and get some tea in you, alright?”

She nodded sleepily and breathed in deeply, letting her eyelids flutter open as he gently lifted her into his lap, one arm supporting her behind the shoulders to get her more upright as the other resettled the blanket around her. After a brief exchange, in which Neville instructed Kreacher on how she liked her tea, she felt a porcelain arch pressed gently to her lower lip, steam licking up her nose as the hot, wet fluid was tipped into her mouth. 

He coaxed her through three cups, an egg, and half a scone before she felt more herself again, and moved to scoot out of his lap.

His arms, though, tightened around her waist. “Wait. Stay?” He looked at her with large, worried brown eyes. “I’ve had a Patronus from Harry, but I… I’ve been scared, and I’d like to hold you, if that’s alright, and maybe hear what happened.”

Luna tipped her head to rest on his shoulder, though her eyes moved over his face appraisingly. “Alright. Mmm. Harry sent a Patronus, all the way from Fernandina?” Everyone knew Harry was powerful, but as he didn’t lord it over anyone and took care not to demonstrate the extent of it much, the occasional casual feat of might was always interesting.

Neville, though, shook his head. “Well, no. I was at the ICW Herbology Colloquium in New York, but he didn’t know that. I guess closer, but yeah, still far. They had an international Floo connection for it, though, so I was able to get here with considerably less upset than you.”

Luna looked up at him, stricken. “Oh, but you have to go back,” she said, struggling to try to sit up more fully. “You were so looking forward to that!”

His arms firmed around her gently and he stroked the back of one hand down the side of her face, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, really. I… I’d already read my papers, and it was almost ending. It’s more important to me to be here for you, Luna.” He gazed down at her, a bit troubled. 

Luna said, looking at him with huge, sad eyes and a bit of uncharacteristic second of hesitation. “Touching you is, mmmm, and I… I _ love _ you, but I am the same. Unless you think _ you _ have changed, let me go now.”

“I…” Neville began, familiar with Luna’s tendency to give him no room to equivocate, but also not quick with words when sleep-deprived and unrehearsed. “Did you know my grandmother died, Luna?”

Luna’s protuberant eyes focused very closely on him. “No. How are you?”

Neville scrubbed a hand down over his bruised-looking eyes. “Better, I think, than I should be. Her expectations… are a much more abstract sort of suggestion rather than a code I must follow, now. If,” he looked at her hopefully, his arms tightening marginally, “If you will let me, I would like to see if I can… adjust.”

She looked back at him silently for a long moment.

Feeling a bit awkward, Neville scratched at the nape of his neck, then cleared his throat. “Won’t you tell me what’s happened?”

She assessed him skeptically, but then, determining that he seemed truthful in his account of the conference, subsided, letting herself relax into his familiar embrace. “Of course. Where to begin? Hmm.”

Over the next hour, she told him. About the expedition, and the new species she’d categorized. About how something had started to kindle with Hagrid but seemed to have sputtered out, including a dispassionate mention of their coupling, watching Neville’s face for signs of pain, though she knew he hid well - like her, he had had to. She told him how, after an unexpectedly taxing first encounter with a new Mermish subspecies, which had caught her up in a miscommunicated mating frenzy (and he did tense and look frightened at this), she had returned to camp to find that Hagrid, beside himself with worry after her long absence, had contacted Harry and Hermione to ask for help. How Hermione had exiled the two men to a different tent and taken over hers, striding about at full sail with her healing mastery and taking charge of Luna’s recovery, eventually asking her questions about what had happened. He chuckled at Luna’s bemused recollection of Hermione’s indignation and shock at some of Luna’s replies, which at one point had raised such a shriek from the Head of the Department for Magical Creatures’ Support and Relations that Harry and Hagrid had charged into the tent, wands blazing, convinced they must be under attack.

“You… well,” he interjected here, “I suspect one can get to know you and care quite a lot about you, Luna, and still frequently be surprised by what you say or do next.” 

After five days of being kept in enforced and secluded recovery, Luna had had an extended conference with Hermione in a professional capacity. Luna had then taken the other woman to be introduced to a representative of the new Mermish nation. Hermione was, of course, fluent in Mermish and several other languages, and this individual spoke an intelligible enough dialect and had promised to return in a few more days with dignitaries from the local mercommunity in hopes of establishing contact and perhaps treaties and dialog. This wasn’t the first time Luna’s work had led to something of the sort - her discoveries, especially among intelligent magical beings, had made a lot of work for Ms. Granger, and Luna was proud of her self-proclaimed sister for always rising to the challenge. 

Luna had convinced Hermione, though, to leave her to say a private farewell to the part-naga Iara merman, whose name was Kolinaisi. Neville worked very hard to maintain a composed countenance as the tiny woman he held matter of factly stated she’d again coupled the barb-knobbed merman-naga and then discovered after the euphoria passed how unready she’d been for it. Hermione had been in a towering temper over this, and, after fully restoring her to good health (if still somewhat diminished weight) over a seven days abed and under _ guard _ (Luna related indignantly), had shoved her own Portkey in Luna’a hand when the Magizoologist had insisted she was well enough to get back to work. Hermione had instructed her in no uncertain terms to get good and bored for at least two weeks of relaxation and recuperation before returning to the island, where Hermione herself would oversee Hagrid’s continued exploration of the land while she and Harry acted as diplomatic liaisons in the interim. Before Luna could argue, the Portkey had activated.

Neville took a moment to absorb all this, looking down at her thoughtfully and feeding her bits of scone. “Shall I keep you company, then? While you’re here?”

She looked back at him, reading into the full depth of his words and rubbing her knees together a bit fretfully as she considered the offer. “If you want to, yes.”

##  _ ❧ _

Neville had always been so gentle with her. That afternoon, after he’d carried her up the stairs to one of the large guest bedrooms, he’d helped her take a bath, washing her hair for her and rinsing it with a copper ewer of warm, clean water before stroking a soapy flannel softly over her skin, easing every grain of sand that stuck to her away, and then carefully wrapped her thin body in a towel and carried her to the bed. He had cast a drying charm on her hair and helped her into a nightdress, then hemmed a minute before turning to go after tucking her in. 

Luna had only asked “Neville?” before he turned and swiftly returned to her, kneeling beside the bed as he lowered his mouth to hers in a desperate but soft kiss. 

She had reciprocated enthusiastically, of course, she reflected in the calm of after as she stroked his naked back. He lay now on his stomach in the bed beside her, the strong tide of his long, slow breaths playing over his broad shoulders with a sound like the sea, one arm curled protectively over her naked hips.

She sighed, full of a feeling like home in the embrace of this beautiful, uncomplicated man who so clearly loved her. Falling into his arms, opening her body to his solicitous entry, were still so easy. 

_ Well _ , she thought, smiling wryly down at him, _ easier at least than extricating myself from under him after he’s fallen asleep inside me _ . Which he always did. There were little whining protests, always, as she sidled from his arms, always a whimper when his softening phallus slid from her, but he always let her go. If wizards could choose their own adaptations, assembling their own traits from the panoply the magi-biological world had to offer, she had no doubt _this _ one would relish being able to knot inside her, securing her to him for at least a day without letting her go, and then starting all over again. She wondered dreamily for a moment about what that would feel like.

She did not enjoy second-guessing anyone’s words, least of all with those she loved, but she was hopeful he was right about himself… and worried he might not be. Still. He had never done anything to make her regret trusting him, so she would make the attempt.

##  _ ❧ _

After cleaning herself up a bit, Luna had found a robe and wandered back to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and sitting down with a prepared teapot, cup, and saucer to wait. 

Kreacher appeared not long after and, after pausing a moment, seated himself across from her, eyeing her thoughtfully.

“Is Mistress Luna feeling better, now, after the attentions of young Master Longbottom?” As he spoke, the kettle floated over and poured itself over the waiting leaves.

Luna was glad, at least, that she’d gotten her given name to stick with him. “I think you know that I am, Kreacher, sir.”

Kreacher shifted in his seat, his always-stormy brow furrowing slightly. “It sits ill with Kreacher, seeing an elvenkin lass engage in hanky panky with a common wizard. You could pursue the Master, yes, though perhaps he is preoccupied elsewhere, or perhaps another with more comparable power, another being or… or one more like the Mistress herself.”

Luna blinked, leaning forward slightly as she looked back at Kreacher. “I am elvenkin?”

Kreacher looked aghast. “Mistress Luna did not _ know?” _ He shook his floppy-eared head dolefully. “Oh, Mistress, not all fae are caretakers, no, and some are… _ some _ are…” The aged elf shivered, looking almost as if he’d been on the verge of speaking ill of his master. “Kreacher, _ any _ house elf, would see better care taken of _ kin _, yes, oh, hmm, well.” He peered at her in concern, biting his thin lip.

Luna shrugged, sipping her tea. “I am many things. I do not mind. Hmm. I thank you for telling me this, Kreacher. How could you tell?”

Kreacher scoffed, grumbling as she summoned him a cup and poured for him, then urged it into his hands. “Kreacher has eyes to see and a nose to smell, Mistress Luna. Kreacher recognizes kin, poor Kreacher, who has been so alone for so long.”

He sipped, looking at her resentfully as he realized she knew exactly how to fix his tea, as if that were not a skill suitable for the likes of Mistress Luna.

“I’m very happy to keep you company, Kreacher,” said Luna, who, having fixed her own tea, appalled the sputtering elf by reaching out and holding his hand. “Perhaps, hmm, I could find another house elf or two through the Ministry’s new service to apprentice with you, would you like that?”

Kreacher’s ears flopped limp along the sides of his head in surprise. “Mistress would… would do that, for poor, nasty old Kreacher?”

Luna smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze. “It would be my honor, Kreacher, though I would ask that you try to set a good and kind example if I did so.” 

Kreacher straightened in his seat, pride seeping into his bearing. “Of course.”

Luna grinned and, before he could squirm away, lent over the table to give him a little peck on his long, drooping nose. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Kreacher flushed pink and sipped his tea, quiet for a long while. “I… Is Mistress still interested in Boggarts, perhaps?”

Luna perked up. “Certainly, I am! I would love to investigate one and explore some theories I have about their true nature. Why do you ask, Kreacher?”

Kreacher looked irritated, scratching behind one of his ears peevishly. “One… one has moved into the winter closet. Whenever Kreacher goes into the Master Harry’s bedchamber, it saunters out, taking the form of the old Mistress Walburga Black, and it kicks Kreacher, it does, and screams at him most upsettingly for allowing a halfblood to besmirch her house. Kreacher has had to mend several nasty bruises this week, Mistress Luna, and if the Master will not be back for some time… perhaps you could investigate, and then banish the pest for poor Kreacher? Kreacher… hasn’t the strength, no, not any more, to send it packing on his own.”

Kreacher looked abashed at this admission, and so in a rush of pity, Luna stroked behind his ear soothingly, which seemed to at least distract him, until he quickly sat up straight and batted her hand away, putting on his most professional face. “There is no need for that, Mistress,” he huffed.

Luna nodded, making a note to investigate house elves more thoroughly at some point before she replied. “Hmm. Alright, Kreacher. By tomorrow, I’ll look - stay out of that room in the meanwhile.”

Kreacher eyed her cagily. “Yes, rest. Do not let Young Master Longbottom keep you from slumber with too much rumpy-pumpy, Mistress Luna, and Kreacher will do as you have asked.”

Luna laughed, releasing his hand to finish her tea. “Not _ too _ much.”

##  _ ❧ _

Luna woke with languid stretch the next day to the sounds of lapping and the delectable sensation of Neville’s lips closing around her clit to suck. She loved the sensation of his stubble along her inner thighs, and how firmly he held her hips in place when they would otherwise writhe so he could better attend to her. And his mouth… she had known many and different, but his was among the best.

One of the things she most enjoyed about the more human variant on copulation was that it generally could be repeated and repeated for days on end, time willing, to little ill effect. There followed enough “rumpy-pumpy,” then, to send Neville back into a blissful nap, having rung her bell quite thoroughly thrice. He had also thwarted her plan to pop into the Ministry first thing - but hadn’t used her so roughly as would make her sore. Rather, her hips had a certain pronounced sway with her step as she finally Floo’d into the Ministry lobby at half eleven then made her way to the House Elf Labor Department. There, she was pleased to learn that three brothers, all of whom asked modest pay but were relatively young, had recently registered for employment with the expressed request that they serve under the supervision and tutelage of a more experienced elf. She’d only planned on one, but this seemed perfect - _ yes _ , she thought, arranging for her own Gringotts vault to cover a year’s wages, _ let Kreacher just _ try _ to be lonely now! _

She hoped Harry didn’t mind. She had a very personal soft spot in her heart for the involuntarily solitary beings of the world.

By the time she returned to Grimmauld Place, Neville had had to leave, a note pinned under a vase of rare orchids on the nightstand letting her know he had something to attend to in the greenhouses before he could return. Kreacher was stunned to hear of his coming charges, meanwhile, and was zooming about the house with a hitherto-unprecedented alacrity, banishing the cobwebs he typically let hang with a vengeance and fretting over reopening long-disused elf cupboards in the attic. 

Well. It seemed the perfect time for her to investigate the Boggart.

Luna slipped through the doorway into Harry’s bedroom quietly, kindling the lamps with a quiet spell. She smiled as she looked around. The decor of this room, complete with beautiful tapestries covering most walls and red velvet bed curtains, reminded her so much of Gryffindor Tower, which she had seen briefly while helping with cleanup after the war. On the nightstand, she could not help but notice, was a large, framed wizarding photograph of Harry and Hermione, standing with their arms around each other in a friendly fashion, smiling and laughing. She saw that, occasionally, each of them twitched a nervous glance at the other, each never seeming to catch the other looking. She sighed. She did not think the mysteries of her own potential romantic fulfillment would be so simple to unsnarl, not that the pair had yet managed to slice through their own entanglement’s confusions. 

She wandered to the center of a silken Turkish carpet, grasping at its slippery pile delightedly with her toes before lowering to assume lotus pose, facing what Kreacher had told her was the door to the winter closet, to wait.

It didn’t take long before the Boggart was curious enough to come out, despite her evident watchfulness. 

It took the form, of course, of Luna herself. 

The real Luna smiled, blinking kindly up at Boggart-Luna, who stood before her unsmiling, a genteel sneer across her impeccably made-up lips. She wore expensively tailored, conservative dress robes, and white pearls adorned her earlobes, wrist, and neck, while her feet curved into elegant dragonhide heels. Not one hair escaped her elegant chignon, and an ostentatious goblin-made ring featuring an extravagant diamond was on her left hand, which rested on the expectant curve of her distended stomach. She was silent and dispassionate, her bearing all elegant training and aristocratic duty.

As Luna watched, a second form appeared behind Luna - a wizard of similarly noble dress and bearing but perhaps twenty years older, his hand resting possessively on Boggart-Luna’s shoulder. He was generically handsome, and as he stepped into being, he rested his other hand covetously over Luna’s gravid belly, pulling her back to him with evident pride. 

“Well,” he said. “The family had faded into some obscurity, it’s true, but is of ancient pureblood pedigree. Imagine my joy to learn of the large estate mouldering unused under a Fidelius charm on Rathlin Island, accessible for my use under the ancestral terms of her dower!” He gave her ass a little slap, as a farmer might give to a satisfactory heifer on its way into a pen. Boggart-Luna didn’t appear to notice. “Family hadn’t used it for years, but I have set about rehabilitating it, extermin- ah, _ relocating _ \- the sundry creatures that have infested it over the years. A grander seat could no family in Britain or Ireland claim, not even the Malfoys, and a Lordship with Wizengamot rights besides! Best investment I _ ever _procured.”

When Luna twitched a bit at this last bit, the man morphed rapidly to take on the form of Lucius Malfoy. “Yes, well,” he drawled, “Now Narcissa’s passed on and Draco’s proven himself an embarrassment, I had the solicitors search Nott’s catalog of eligible pureblood women, and this one seemed most likely to be of little trouble and produce another heir who would conform to the proper physical specifications.” He scoffed. “No dark-headed little Malfoys under my watch,” he murmured, harshly pulling the pin from her hair and uncoiling it, then rubbing a white-blonde lock appraisingly between thumb and forefinger before looking up again. A grin that did not reach his eyes curved his lips. “She’s so biddable, too, under the Imperius and, now I’ve her execrable _ father _ out of the picture, even without. I haven’t been so happy in years. Would you like to see?” He asked, starting to ruck up her skirt and getting as far as silken garters fastened to the tops of long stockings before she interjected. 

“No, I would not. Hmm. I’d like to talk to you - _ you _, Boggart - but request first that you stop.” Luna said, her expression remaining calm.

Real Luna watched sadly as Boggart-Lucius pushed Boggart-Luna down to brace her hands on a low dresser, the position forcing her to bend over. “Are you sure? Timid little slip doesn’t even _ need _ to be persuaded anymore.” He gave her barely-covered arse a sound smack, pushing her farther toward the dresser, her slipping hands upsetting the toilet items arranged atop it. “Utterly pliant now, and as she’s already carrying, I’m happy to share...”

It took Luna a moment to rouse herself from watching, paler now, as Boggart-Lucius ran his hands along her doppelganger’s stocking-clad legs, delivering bites and bruising pinches as he went with impunity. Boggart-Luna’s glazed eyes registered no reaction as she took it.

Finally, Luna shook her head, drawing up her knees to hug them to her chest but speaking quite steadily. “This is an impressive performance. It does not need to continue, though.”

Boggart-Lucius let the tip of one finger slid up and just under the hem of Boggart Luna’s disarranged skirt, leering down at the real Luna as the facsimile continued to present herself passively. “I’m very proud of my little achievement. I have high hopes for what it will _ fruit _.”

Luna continued as if unperturbed. “I wonder, though, if there’s a will involved - do you simply mirror something in your victims without understanding, or do you perceive and decide, monitoring for ways to engage and escalate with intelligence? You’re categorized by the Ministry as a creature, you see, but I’m not certain that does you credit.”

With a sudden snarl, Boggart-Lucius pulled her counterpart upright, only to slap her viciously across the face and knock her to the ground. Boggart-Luna absently wiped a drip of blood from the corner of her mouth as she sat up, only to be kicked in the ribs and dashed down again.

“Hmmm. I don’t think this turn of events was plucked from my mind - I make a point of knowing myself, yes, and find this sort of violence less frightening than others. Are you extrapolating? Oh, tell me you are! Others seem more concerned with your shape when you are alone, but I wonder about your _ nature _ . What must it be like, I wonder, to have to rely on fear to survive in the world? Lonely and rather miserable, I would imagine, but perhaps… do you _ enjoy _it?” Only at this point did some distaste reveal itself in Luna’s expression.

Luna stood, Boggart Luna still sprawled on the ground, not attempting again to get up. Boggart Lucius was glaring at the real Luna, eyes blazing viciously. “You have no idea the things I’m capable of, you intractable little bitch,” he snarled, before lunging at her.

Luna looked at him curiously as she dodged around a wingback chair, holding up the wand in her hand to make certain he saw it. “I am more than capable of ending this, of course.” Her eyes darted over to the sword hung above the hearth, which she levitated over between them before she evenly incanted, “_ Riddickulus!” _, and the sword’s blade peeled back to reveal a banana underneath the steel outer peel. 

Boggart-Lucius sneered, exposing teeth as he grabbed for her. “You talk too much, filthy little blood-traitor, and will learn your place,” he growled. On his next lunge, he knocked over the chair and caught her, dragging her toward him slowly by her arm. 

She spoke just as she felt Boggart-Lucius reached to seize at her waist with his other hand. “I will destroy you, of course, if you genuinely lack the capacity to engage with me peacefully, but I would prefer not to,” she said, speaking calmly and directly. “If you do not release me, I will regret having to do you harm. Please, stop.”

Boggart-Lucius glared thunderously down at her, but stilled. She could not tell if the Boggart was drawing out this moment of menacing her, or if it was considering her words. She noticed with great interest that his eyes flickered to her wand briefly, then back to her face.

Then, slowly, he faded and disappeared.

It was Boggart Luna who stood up and walked over to her as the real Luna let out a shaky breath. The Boggart shifted to mirror her current dress and physical state exactly in the two steps it took to reach her, and then primly pulled her skirt down to better cover her before righting and sitting on the wing chair.

“We do not do this, Ms. Lovegood,” the Boggart said gravely, in something not entirely like Luna’s own voice. “We do not enjoy thinking on what your kind might do if it occurred to them to manipulate us again, and obscurity suits us.”

Luna nodded and exhaled, stretching some tension from her neck before seating herself on the end of Harry’s bed. “That sounds like a sad story.”

Boggart-Luna looked around the room briefly, then gave a little shiver. “We do not enjoy the light. If you would continue this conversation, I ask that you return with me to the dark place. I will not harm you, and you may bring your weapon,” it said, nodding at her wand.

Luna, too, looked at the wand. “Ah. While your choice of word is understandable, please know that this is seldom used that way, since the war.” Luna sheathed the wand in a long, narrow pocket, sewn into her skirt for exactly this purpose. “I am happy to go somewhere you will be more comfortable. Would you prefer I lead or follow?”

The Boggart looked surprised at the consideration indicated by her asking this question. “I will follow. Your asking was… unexpected.”

Luna smiled, standing and walking forward and through the open door. “I’d like for us to surprise each other.”

##  _ ❧ _

Standing inside the closet as the door shut, Luna could see nothing. This was unusual; for reasons she could only guess were inherited, she could typically see quite well in the dark, partially transformed along siren lines or not. The dark, however, was usually not _ this _ dark - and she wondered if that was the Boggart’s doing.

She felt a sort of warmth flickering around her and then solidifying into the firm feeling that there was a living creature standing in front of her and somewhat over her, leaning close but not touching. She kept her hands close to herself, aware of the sensitivity of the situation, though she was very curious. 

“If you have a name, would you tell it to me?” Luna asked, looking up to where a humanly-proportioned face would be if she were correctly estimating the Boggart’s height. “You know mine, of course.”

“I have none,” replied the Boggart, whose voice now seemed to fluctuate between masculine and feminine in the dark. “You may simply call me Boggart, if you like.”

Luna nodded, but then figured it could not be seen. “Thank you. I will.”

There was a long quiet, and Luna felt the Boggart’s presence moving around her. It didn’t seem quite like it was circling her but it was similar in a way she would later have trouble describing for her notes.

“Thank you for revealing yourself. There are others I need to tell, but I can ask that the Ministry guard the knowledge closely if you would prefer. I think, though, that others might be willing to deal nonlethally with your kind if they knew you were beings who thought rather than reacting solely on instinct.”

The Boggart seemed to think a moment before responding. “What an odd distinction, to make carry such weight.”

Luna shrugged. “I have wondered about it, too, but I suppose I understand why humans… hmm... feel such distinctions and hierarchies are important. I have noted similar behavior from many magical beings, too.”

The Boggart seemed, for a moment, to be a wind circling her. Was this a sigh?

“Do as you think might keep us best, then. I have knowledge you could not garb in lies of your sincere intent to be of use, and of your past successes in this vein. It seems an age in which the exploitation of beings is for the most part in decline, but you must understand that it has been… a fearful many years.”

Luna pondered that. “The war?”

“It did not come without its way paved through a thousand littler violences, human, but it culminated thus, yes. We would know, after all. Boggarts have been known in some dourer Germanic communities as _ Zeitgeists _; we feel and echo the times. We also have a history tying us to fear that reaches back much further.”

“Are you saying that fear is not intrinsic to Boggart nature?” Luna asked, canting her head as considered the Boggart’s words.

“It is _ now _, but we are an old kind.”

For a moment, as she considered that, Luna felt a sort of warm breeze flowing over her neck. Perhaps she was being examined physically, now that the psychological inquiry was complete.

“I’m not aware of many recorded instances in which a Boggart actually touched a witch or wizard before. Does it happen often?”

A wind whipped around Luna, and then the sense of a solid warmth in front of her seemed closer. “No. And in many instances, as might have happened easily to you, _ when _it happens it results in the mage being taken back with the Boggart into the dark.”

Luna wondered what that meant. “Why many but not all?”

The voice next whispered next to Luna’s ear, where she had not previously felt the Boggart’s presence. This voice, though, came with warm, humid breath. “We are _ born _ of fear and begotten of its consequent violence, human.”

Luna’s hand floated up to where the voice had been but encountered nothing there but slightly warmer air. “I would prefer we stay done with intimidation,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and frowning into the dark.

There was a sense of scurrying around her before the reply. “Apologies. It is hard to … adapt. There are legends that once we were made without strife, but most Boggarts alive question their veracity.”

“Am I inferring correctly, then, that _ full Boggarts _ may be born when a human scared of forced pregnancy or rape stumbles upon a Boggart and cannot fight it off?” Luna asked, stilling at the monstrousness of the thought.

“Yes. Yes, if the Boggart... chooses to press its suit.” The Boggart’s voice blended briefly into a breeze. “We may reproduce with each other, as well, but while we… are aware of each other, can converse with each other, over some distance, most of us never meet another of our kind. We almost exclusively perpetuate ourselves through mages, when we do - but few of us have the taste for the sort of violence necessary for that - we are a _ hiding _ people, and an empathetic one - and so we are dying out. We attempt to care for our vessels, and sometimes several offspring may be whelped of a union, but in the grip of fear, most do not long survive.”

In the dark, Luna paled. “That you reproduce thus is not known of you.”

“We have kept it that way, of course, little curious one.” 

“And this may be the result of a curse?” Luna asked.

“Your Voldemort and Grindelwald were hardly the first wizards to try to use the power of magical nonhumans for their own violent ends. Four millennia ago, or so we believe, we had a better life. We still preferred only to exist in our own forms in darkness, and we still required inspiration for other shapes, but we could choose to appear as anything we found rattling around in the minds of our muses, and for any end motivated by our own thoughts and feelings in response. I understand the sympathy in our magic that lets Boggarts prep prettier or species through congress with mages began through comfort, love, and seduction. You, surely, know how enticing a being a pliant form and identity might be to your own kind under such circumstances. All the more devastating, then, when we - some of us lovers, wives, husbands - were changed. And not just for you - we cannot see the good in others but to exploit it anymore, cannot read but to attempt harm. It changed us.”

Luna leaned back against the door and thought for a long moment. “You couldn’t break the curse?”

“We have no such skill, and to my knowledge, all our conversations with mages for centuries have ended with death or terror. Others have asked your questions, but not waited out the display of their fears we must exhaust before recalling ourselves.”

Luna gnawed at her lip in thought. “Hmm. I will have to talk to some Curse-Breakers and perhaps some other scholars.”

Luna sensed something like surprise. “You will not kill me, then?”

“Of course not,” Luna said, canting her head in puzzlement. “You engaged with me peacefully when you could have pursued your own biological imperative instead.”

“You,” the Boggart said, slowly, “Are _ strange _.” 

Luna nodded in agreement, feeling rustling and warmth moving around her. “That’s true.” She thought a moment. “Can two Boggarts couple?”

“Yes. In fact, any two can. We can all carry, and we can all seed. We seldom get to carry, however,” it added, almost petulant. “Among you, those who carry are the subjugated class, and are far, far more likely to have fears we can consummate. And mating another Boggart is almost impossible, with our kind all hidden and increasingly rare.” 

Luna wondered sadly. “You almost never know sex born of peace, desire, or love, then,” she stated without asking, reflecting on how tenderly Neville had lain with her, and suddenly unutterably melancholy that any being could be unable to experience that. 

“Finding another of our own kind to mate and staying with that other long enough for both to conceive is the rarest and most coveted form of luck among Boggarts. Those things you say, they are beyond how we must exist,” the Boggart confirmed.

Luna furrowed her brow, thinking. “And if you reproduce with humans, all your descendants are pure Boggart, not mixed.”

She felt a sort of closeness around her. “That is how our magic has always been,” it stated.

“Hmm. Yes. That makes some sense. I,” she said, picking her words, “am, as you said, _ odd _. I believe, yes, that most of this is simply the person who I am. I am also unusual, however, in that my family has long intermarried or at least interbred with intelligent non-human magical creatures, though, so I am not altogether, hmmm, human.”

“Again, you differentiate on some notion of intelligence, when I stand here as evidence that your kind does not even know which creatures _ are _ intelligent. It seems… a quaint notion.”

Luna blinked, wondering if what she was feeling was anger. “As a member of a species that allows rape and involuntary impregnation within its norms, however reluctantly, you may believe that, but most humans care deeply about consent, which can only be given when understood.”

The Boggart seemed to sniff. “How nice for you.”

Luna again was brushed by irritation, but compassion prevailed. Tentatively, she reached out in front of her. As her fingers stretched, they encountered a broad, solid form. It was warm and muscular, though she could not tell without risking liberties she did not want to take exactly what part she touched, if that was even the right way to think about it. She thought, though, that if the Boggart were neutral of form, it probably would have had human-seeming skin. Instead, it was covered in a short coat of hair, which reminded her of a mouse she’d once befriended. “I… wonder if I can help you. I think I can. What if,” she said, thinking as she spoke, “There were a sanctuary where you could meet each other, someplace, or even meet willing witches and wizards capable of enduring fear until your displays could subside?”

The flesh of the Boggart twitched beneath her hand, rippling slightly as it spoke. “There could not be many.”

Luna paused. “Is procreation why you come into our dwellings?”

The Boggart moves as if shifting its stance. “In part, for those who can stomach it. But more importantly, we are fae, and of the fae known to your kind we are most closely related to the ones you call house elves. Similarly, we require proximity to human mages to thrive. We stay away as long as we can, but if we do not replenish our connections, we start to fade.”

Luna frowned. “How awful. Hermione would be beside herself. You have no idea how poorly she took it when that factor of house elf existence was explained to her. Witches and wizards don’t commonly know, especially those who are of lower birth, or Muggle-raised.”

“It would make this sanctuary you speak of a complex endeavor, because without the right energies in place from human mages, it would not work,” said the Boggart. The witch went quiet at this. The flesh pressing back against her hand moved incrementally nearer. “There is… a possibility.”

“I do not know if I can do what you want to ask of me,” Luna murmured softly in reply.

“You,” the Boggart said, “Do not know how I might _ help _ you, witch.”

“Help me how?” She asked, taking a small step back.

The Boggart seemed agitated around her, heaving a ragged breath before it replied. “When one of use joins with one of you, we can render a fear … abstract, harmless. We use this ability,” it said, “to calm the ones we take to breed, that they might survive longer. We usually suppress their fear of whatever they had caused _ us _ to become.” She felt the vibration of footsteps approaching her as an intervening distance was closed, her back pressing to a hanging suede cloak as she ran out of space to back up. “If you are willing, I can remain in my innate form, rather than using your fear of being… _ appropriated _ and forced back to your family’s former status _ . _ Do that, and I can nullify your fear of your family’s historic home. _ That _ place, from what you remember, has ample room for what you describe if you but revisit it from time to time and call it home - and could be repopulated besides such that we could eventually leave your own house. There … there is an empty village, is there not, in addition to the manner and it’s facilities? Room for many to dwell?”

Luna’s heart raced as she felt a warm breath at the top of her head, shrinking down slightly. “You… could do that?_ ” _

“For a chance you would bear a Boggart child uncoerced, yes. But… for only one chance, the effect would fade. You would have the face your fear through other means while it was desensitized. Elsewise, I would have to keep you, and while I _ could _,” it mused, Luna tensing, “I would prefer not to. I… would prefer to carry than seed, and that is a thing you cannot help me with yourself, though you can… you can open a door we have not dared dream of breaching.”

Luna thought, shamed by her reticence despite all the reasons this might make sense and be the right thing to do. She held at bay the sounds of her mother’s screams, the thoughts of being locked alone in the dark, peering through a keyhole, and… no. She would leave it. She had to. 

She gathered herself up, drawing out of her crouch. “You have my permission.”

The entire space around her seemed to exhale, the currents of air zipping around the small space several seconds before they dissipated.

“You’re… you’re certain?” The fluidly changing voice seemed hesitant suddenly. “I am always alien, and when I am myself, I am in a certain amount of flux. My form… my form fits my space, so is quite large, here. We do not like _ emptiness _, and by reflex we fill it.” There was a rush of air as the Boggart seemed to think. “Even in seeding you, you would not find my natural form to conform to your concept of male.”

Luna chuckles, this bit amusing to her. “I have found many beings in part alien to my human form beautiful, and have never found my attraction to be bound to a single gender or conformation - which I think you know. If my partners have tended toward the masculine, it has been because such partners have been more commonly willing and available to me and because I want a child - several, really. Hmmm. Yes. And besides,” she admitted, coloring slightly, “I was sincere that your nature was a greater curiosity to me than your form, but if I am to know you carnally, or even bear your offspring, I would like to touch what you truly are.”

“Very well.” The furred… stomach?.. pressed closer. “Would you like to disrobe?”

“Wait.” She said, steadying herself. “There are two other matters.”

“Oh?” The voice was soft, feminine, close to her ear. 

She tried to reach out to the voice with her free hand, but there was nothing there. “_ Any _ child I have, I wish to know and help rear. If I should conceive for you, even if the child holds little resemblance to me, I would have you promise me that I will be an equal parent to it.”

The Boggart gave a deep, masculine chuckle. “I can concede that. Do you wish to disrobe? I weary of this endless talking.”

She shook her head. “Not here. There is a small linen closet by my own room - there. If I end up in St. Mungo’s due to strain from injury, I do not want to explain to my... sister... that I willingly opened the way to my womb for a creature six feet deep, twelve feet across, and fifteen feet tall despite having been send here to recover. Is there a container of some sort here in which I could transport you? I wear a locket, if that would suit.

“I… _ can _ travel thus. But I request a gesture of sincerity before I put myself at your mercy.”

“Ah,” Luna nodded, thinking. Then, steeling herself, she pulled her sundress off over her head and stood naked in the dark.

##  _ ❧ _

What happened next would be difficult for her to explain.

Luna had strode through the hall and down the stairs nude, and, after throwing her dress through the door into her room, stepped into the closet, where she closed the door behind her and looked around a moment with her wand lit. The inside of the space was full of cabinets and drawers, such that the standing space was, yes, still 8 feet high (thanks to a closed space that seemed to house the enormous nearby bathtub’s self-refilling bubble bath reservoirs at the top), but its footprint was only, perhaps, 3 by 4 feet. The brass cabinet and drawer hardware might be vexing if the space were truly full, but she had endured far worse.

She dimmed her wand and opened the locket.

Immediately she was surrounded, her back pressed into a bank of drawers, their unyieldingness at her back while a soft, warm pelt slid and flexed along her from the front. 

“You let me out,” the Boggart said, seeming not to have taken it for granted. “Good.”

Luna squirmed a bit to try to get more comfortable, the wooden drawer fronts sticking to her skin and shifting incrementally as she moved. “Em, yes. I hope this space will work. I… I have some questions, though.”

“Oh?” The Boggart immediately sounded defensive.

“Yes, well. You mentioned some things, and, well, _ didn’t _ mention some others that... that I would like to be sensitive to and cognizant of, when we do this.” Luna thought, from the feeling of something like ribs beneath the pelt she was pinned against, that the boggart was at least a un upright vertebrate mammal - at least in part. 

“Ask,” it said, its voice gruff but lilting, now, like a young woman’s.

“Thank you. Em, I can’t see you, because it’s dark, but to navigate your body, I’d like to know what you like and don’t like, and if there are any restrictions you would like to make to what we might do together or how I might touch you. You have also mentioned that all Boggart individuals can either seed or carry young, and that while you would prefer to do the latter, with me the former role is what is available to you. Do you have a preference as to what pronouns I use in speaking with you, or any other preferences about what I might call you than Boggart?”

Luna felt the Boggart shifting in a way that felt nervous. “We… have not had names in a long time, and I would prefer, if I am to gain one, not to do so… like this, now. I do not often speak as myself, so I had not considered, and do not know _ why _ you would need… but… perhaps speak to me as you would a feminine creature. I… can we not just… just attend to the _ mechanics _of this thing?” The Boggart pleaded, its voice cracking like an adolescent boy’s.

Luna stilled a moment. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

The Boggart squirmed, then replied in a clipped voice. “_ What? _”

“I just realized you are innocent of sex.” Luna said, stroking at one of the Boggarts limbs, which had shifted as if to hug itself, soothingly.

“I am not!” She protested quickly. “With myself, in hundreds of forms, hundreds of times, I have… I have shagged up one side of London and down the other! Men have wept to watch me show them their wives gleefully cuckolding them, and I have performed feats I doubt there are even words for, from the filthy minds of beings like you.”

Luna kept stroking soothingly. “Yes. Hmm. But as yourself? Or with another?”

The Boggart’s body shifted in a way that made Luna think that, somewhere higher, her head was shaking, confirming her suspicions. “It isn’t for us what it is to you,” she said, a little bitterly.

“By necessity, yes, mmmm. But I think you would prefer it otherwise.”

The Boggart seemed to sag. “That would be absurd for one like me.”

Luna felt her heart break a little to hear that and understand why it had been said. “I will try to help you change that. But it seems that… first…” Luna sighed, slumping a bit herself. “You don’t have to do this. I will … I will have Hermione brew me an especially potent calming draught, or I’ll-”

_ “No,” _ said the Boggart, her voice low and deep. Then, in a lighter, higher voice, “No, I would have you do this with a vested interest in keeping your word. I know that you feel accountable to even the _ notion _ of a child you might have. And… I _ want _ one.”

Luna sighed, resuming her strokes tentatively. “Tell me how you would like me to proceed, then, and I will honor your wishes. I ask that, if I ask you to stop, you heed me. I would be happy for you to use me to explore, though, in any way that will not damage us.”

The Boggart seemed to think a moment before she spoke. “You know that we are shifters. Our own forms naturally may fluctuate. We are capable of being dually functional in a single compounded form, of borrowing what we like and mixing, or of what I suppose you’d call sequential hermaphroditism, shifting entirely to take on male or female traits and organs. We are not, though, entirely like you. I… well, usually, I... oh, _ here.” _

With this, Luna felt two sets of two large hands, both coated with the same fine fur and tipped with dull-tipped nubs of claws, pick her up. One set had grasped her around her ribs, just under her arms, and the other clasped her hips. Luna was lifted away from where she’d been pressed against what she now thought, from the twist of it, must be the Boggart’s side, then up. Her bare toes groped in the dark as she was lifting over what felt like a hip and deposited astride a broad torso at the waist, which narrowed considerably from the broader hips and flaring ribcage. It seemed the Boggart truly was taking up the entire space, sitting on the floor with her knees folded up in front of her and her back bending around the small cavity Luna herself now occupied. Her lower set of hands left Luna’s hips, brushing along the outsides of Luna’s legs as they moved back, Luna thought, to brace their palms against the floor. 

“Humans lack redundancy,” the Boggart grumbled, her hands pushing Luna forward onto… two sets of large, firm breasts, one pair above the other along the Boggart’s chest. Luna was awed a moment, her hands smoothing slowly over the landscape before her and gliding over a short silky pelt covering two enormous globes atop and two smaller, but still each comparable in size to a cantaloupe. The nips themselves were bare, Luna determined perfunctorily. 

“This is your preferred form, then?” Luna asked, her voice a bit breathy as arousal started to wake in her. “May I..?”

The Boggart’s voice was small. “You may.”

Luna gripped around the Boggart’s sides with her thighs and let herself lean in and to deliberately relish the press of her own small mounds against the liquid shift of the tremendous orbs beneath them. The four were pressed together, now, and between the two’s chests, and from this vantage Luna slid her hands around the silk of them in a way that communicated appreciation more than exploration, feeling the Boggart’s breath catch. Luna buried her arms between the more prominent pair to above her elbows, her fingers caressing down and around the circumference of each as she slipped downward. Then, pressing her own bosom against the lower set, Luna bent her head to the higher of the Boggart’s, her tongue circling one tightened nip before she closed her lips and sucked.

The Boggart’s moan was a kaleidoscope of voices as she writhed under Luna in the small space, then encouraged, _ “yesssss…” _

Luna gaged this new partner’s response as she flicked and circled her tongue, sucked softly, nipped, and blew over the cold wet nub, loitering over the sucking as she felt the Boggart’s hips squirm and furred hands slip down along her back. Luna wondered, in the dark, if she had left a mark, and then turned her attentions to the tended teat’s twin.

The Boggart seemed to like pinching and teeth more when they were applied to her lower pair, so for a time Luna alternately sucked and sucked up high as her hands pulled and squeezed below, the Boggart panting writhing beneath her. 

Finally, Luna snuggled in, burying her face between the gigantic bubs, her shoulders and her own breasts settling into the crevasse above the lower pair as her arms swept up and around, her hands curling atop the higher. For a short while she simply pressed herself there, smelling the Boggart’s velvety body with her nose buried in its cleavage, the tattoo of two hearts beating a harmonized pulse at her cheeks. She felt as if her upper body were somehow surrounded by a waterbed, to unutterably blissful effect. She realized she was grinding her center down against the softness of her new partner’s waist as the other’s own hips twitched up rhythmically. Luna darted out her tongue to lap affectionately at the Boggart’s pelt where her mouth was buried, then reacted to the creature’s little moan of pleasure by pressing down a bruising kiss, taking several more minutes to wring sensation out of this tremendous body before she paused, panting.

“I wish,” Luna said, nipping at one tit’s inside wall ardently, “That I could transform to seed you as you would prefer. These more feminine aspects you led me to are…” Luna paused to shudder, pushing her center hard against the gyrating body below her. “Mmmm. I wonder if there’s a potion…”

As Luna became distracted, her hands and mouth moving as if bemoaning their inability to attend all the Boggart’s nipples at the same time, the other spoke. “For now, though I… ooooh, ooooh, there, bite, please, please, oh, please… mmmm… for now I… oh… I think that we should… proceed…” The Boggart trailed off, lifting both sets of hands to stroke down and over Luna, the lower set settling to knead at her cheeks. “Mmmmph… this… this thing… I _ love _ this.”

Luna pulled herself up from one of the lower nips with a pop. “Do you kiss? At the mouth?”

“I… mmm… teeth sharp, not... not _ now… ” _ The Boggart’s dexterous fingers seemed to have at least one additional knuckle and two opposed thumbs, Luna felt. Sighing dreamily, the witch jutted her ass into the Boggart’s hands to be mauled. The little claw-nubs dug at her seam as the fingers pulled her cheeks up, then apart, then pressed them back together. Luna gave up any control of her thoroughly dominated posterior musculature and let the Boggart grope her, feeling wetness start to seep down her thighs.

Several minutes later, the Boggart spoke. “You were saying?” She said, smugness a fixed color across a panoply of shifting tones. 

Luna tried to remember herself as she slid with the Boggart’s tightening and loosening grasp in a slick of her own juices, which had wetted the Boggart's stomach. “Love can be made between women with … mmm… mouths and hands… I can… I can… Let me, with you…”

Luna felt the shift of a firmly shaken head rippling across the chest she clutched at. “No, no, you, _ you _ , let me _ fuck _ you, you… I need… ooooh… I need to get into you, I need this wet around me, I need… _ now…” _ The Boggart bent down, her spine more flexible than a human’s, and let her warm breath tease Luna a moment before her long, rough tongue licked up the witch from navel to chin, threading between her breasts and lifting her slightly with its friction. Luna cried out as it dipped down again to lap at each of her nipples, chafing but not hurting her until vulpine jaws closed partly over one of her breasts, the points of long teeth biting down almost hard enough to injure while the Boggart’s tongue whipped frantically at the rosy point. Both sets of the Boggart’s arms again lifted Luna up while, below her, the Boggart shuddered and moaned, though Luna was lifted fully clear. With a little whimper, the Boggart released her jaws and then snapped up Luna’s other breast, rough tongue whipping and devouring it with heated attentions as Luna’s hands shakily stroked up her fox-like face, smoothing over whiskers and impossibly long lashes at the edges of two large, closed eyes. Her hands smoothed over slightly longer, coarser eyebrows, and then, before she could push on, so _ curious _about ears, the Boggart let go Luna’s breast and slammed her entire body back and up against a wall of cabinets, grip readjusting to hold the witch up by her buttocks from below. The Boggart’s second set of hands roughly pushed Luna’s bare thighs back, folding her legs up and along her sides, leaving her cunny utterly exposed.

“I need… must smell, taste, in order to become ready, brace yourself,” the Boggart wrasped, insensible of Luna’s nodding as she felt hot, predatory breath trail from her face _ down _, following a narrow, silk-furred chin that dragged along her midline. The Boggart had begun to whimper and shake, kneading at Luna’s cheeks with a distracted ferocity before pulling back from her, only warm breath now touching the witch’s drenched lower lips. 

Then, a soft, cold nose delved into Luna’s folds, followed by the rasp of the Boggart’s terrible, _ exquisite _tongue.

Luna came almost immediately, her lower body so firmly held that her upper body writhed doubly. Her head whipped from one shoulder to the other as she cried out, her hands unthinkingly reaching and grasping two delicate, pointed ears, crushing them down against the Boggart’s skull and then pulling them up, clawing into the dips behind them with rough scratches and then pulling the points back up by their tufted tips and biting one along its edge as she shuddered through shock after shock pulsing through her body. 

The Boggart, meanwhile, had only doubled down. Her jaws closed lightly over Luna’s mons, giving a domineering little jerk before they again released. There followed slurping, long, _ wet _ laps with that rasp of a tongue that traversed all the way from Luna’s well-pawed hind cleft, and up over her slit, across her clit, and back, again and again so fast Luna could hardly keen out the _ “yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss..!” _ without suffocating. Then, without warning, the cool nose dipped in and started pushing a rhythmic little tattoo of tiny strokes and pushes at Luna’s hot clit, so _ soft _, as the Boggart’s lower jaw shockingly pushed forward, its width wedging open the witch’s aching honeypot.

The Boggart just let Luna hang there, warm breath breaching her in little pants, building anticipation before the onslaught began with the long, rasping tongue shoving right up into her sweet, wet cunny. 

Luna screamed and went limp, shaking with aftershocks, after the first tongue stroke to the sensitive spot deep along her front wall. She shook and whimpered, her hands soft on the silken snout that yet probed her, as slowly, lazy laps extended into a tempo matching the feverish licks a dog took at its water after a long run on a hot, hot day. 

She counted ten little deaths before she became nearly insensate with satiation, the rasping tongue not slowing, not yet quite starting to sting.

With evident reluctance, the Boggart pulled back from Luna slightly, lazily cleaning up her drips with a long, luxuriant stroke of the tongue before she spoke. “I fear forgetting, if we do not now proceed. I… I do not think I will hurt you, brave one.”

Gently, the Boggart eased her grip, letting Luna’s aching hips sing with relief as her legs fell bonelessly forward and down, feet sliding down silken, folded knees. The Boggart adjusted her grip so that one pair of hands grasped the witch firmly by the hips, the other set by the tops of the backs of her thighs, fingers delicately pulling what lay between wide and open. “Tell me you have not changed your mind, human,” the Boggart said, her pitch deepening with each word.

Luna shook her head. “No,” she laughed, reaching forward and embracing a ruffed neck. “After _ that? _ ” She rubbed her cheek down one side of the Boggart’s, then the other, smooth skin gliding over ermine. _ “No, _ I’d want you even if you _ didn’t _ have a curse, or a decline, or threats or powers or the ability to take my fear. But… can I not return the favor?” Luna nipped at where the Boggart’s whiskers sprouted from her velutinous jaw. 

The Boggart chuckles and nipped playfully at the apple of Luna’s cheek. “Not when much may rest on my not dissolving before I’ve planted you, minx.”

Then, letting Luna’s back drag down the folded length of her thighs, the Boggart pulled Luna down, one hand leaving one hip to position herself below. 

The phallus was soft when it first wriggled into her, but immediately, Luna felt it begin to swell. 

The Boggart moaned and moaned, almost wailing in torment as she stiffened inside the witch, rutting up in little thrusts to seat herself. Luna, meanwhile, was increasingly aware of a large, bulbous knot throbbing into being at the rod’s end as it pushed in, swelling and swelling as it passed the point any human could reach within her, making her abdominal wall clench and release in little spasms as she struggled to adjust. “Well…” Luna hissed through her teeth as she suffered a particularly delicious little thrust. “I had just been thinking about knotting.”

The Boggart groaned, rutting up once more as Luna’s inner lips slid all the way to her root, engulfing her fully. “I want to feel one in _ me _, someday,” she murmured wistfully. 

And then, surprising Luna out of responding, the Boggart held the witch’s hips firmly with one set of hands as she scrambled upside down and braced her feet on the ceiling, her shoulders curled beneath her to support her weight on her shoulder blades, pressed to the floor. Luna fell against the Boggart’s bathykolpian torso, adrift on a mammary sea that undulated below her with each little pelvic thrust. The Boggart’s hands lifted Luna’s hips upward, thrusting her up against to grind their pelvises together, then let the witch half-fall down, perhaps five inches of movement possible until her body jerked to a halt. Luna’s eyes widened in the dark with shock as she realized she was suspended by the knot within her, which had swollen so that it caught inside her, perhaps too large to clear her pelvic opening. The Boggart, meanwhile, with little shudders, absentmindedly rotated her, spinning her perhaps thirty degrees to one side and then back sixty to the other before lifting her back up to shove into her fully again, grinding and releasing several times rapidly before letting Luna hang and spinning her again. Luna’s stomach lurched when the knot moved in her, and she reached up, hesitantly, to feel her stomach, distended low and fluttering with little twitches around the bulk pushing out from within her. The Boggart panted, intermittently nipping at Luna’s shoulders and lapping at her face as the grinding and hanging cycle repeated.

Luna caught her breath, curious as she realized she was growing to like the hanging sensation, which her muscular channel seemed somehow exaltant in. “Really? Inverted?” She asked, her hands absent-mindedly moving through a cycle of smoothing and groping at the Boggart’s glorious rack. 

She felt the Boggart shrug before she replied. “It felt right. I… I am driven, now, to seed you, and… the stretch is… mmm.” Luna’s cheek was wetted by a delicate lap. “Upside down seems better for inseminating you, maybe I heard it somewhere. And… dangling you thus is… _ heady _, and only aches a little, which I think I like.” She left off a moment, in a reverie as she shuddered and lifted Luna’s hips to grind at her again. 

Luna nuzzled into pelted cleavage, relishing the stretch as she let her hanging spine arch. “Are you… are you ejaculating already then, now?”

Luna felt the Boggart nod. “Yes. It is a lengthy process, and not as… tremendous as the singular climax I might experience through the carrying organs. Or, if I’m lucky, _ series _of singular climaxes, like you. But, yes, I have been. Since the knot took.” The hands at Luna’s hips slipped down to her waist, the other set coming up to bend her more, bowing her back to its tightest possible curve. “Mmph, you are beautiful like this,” she murmured, pushing up at the witch’s shoulders to hold the arch with two hands while the other two let go of her waist, one smoothing up her bunched back as the other laid a ticklish trail down from her navel to her mouth, one finger fucking into her throat langorously for a moment. “I like to make you gag. I wonder why,” it pondered as Luna’s eyes rolled back. “It terrifies you, but it also thrills you.” Luna surrendered herself to feeling full and claimed as lightheadedness pushed her an extra inch to climax again, rippling around the knot within her. 

The Boggart laughed softly as she pulsed into Luna’s aftershocks, withdrawing her digit from Luna’s mouth to let her breathe and moving on to pinch the human’s nipples, holding each pressed hard between three dull claw tips. Luna struggled, bobbing with her own powerful spasms as her cunny seemed to try and scale the staff it dangled from as her tits fairly begged to be clamped like this until they were compressed into diamonds at the tips. 

“You come and it draws me into you deeper. I want you gravid for me, witch, although,” it snarled, “I can _ smell _ that others have been in you before me. Tell me anyway, what other buttons do you have that I might push? Damn whoever meddled to block me from pulling desires straight from that roiling mind of yours… I know only that you are scared of more pleasure, _ and _ scared I’ll let the pleasure stop, which I will count, for now, as a victory.”

Luna moaned a little, wetting her lips and feeling her face crumple in disappointment as the grip on her nipples fell away. “Stop, come back!” She whined, flailing out to try to catch the Boggart’s retreating hands. The Boggart then chuckled until she snarled, giving Luna a few more rough thrusts, these leaving the witch aware that, by now, she was so full of cream her cup was poised to flow over.

“Then answer me,” came the Boggart’s voice, smuggly reasonable.

Luna sighed. “I do not own a manual to lend you, though I have attempted to write one after close study of myself. Half of what you’ve done to wring pleasure from me I could not have anticipated. There are a few things, though. Clitoral stimulation, oxygen deprivation, some forms of pain. Feelings of fullness, suggestive motions and actions. Anal penetration, breast play, hair pulling. Both roughness _and_ gentleness. Caresses and little warning pinches or bites around vulnerable places - neck, inner thighs, behind knees, throat. Sucking, oh, almost _anything_, done right. Hmm. Yes. Explicit speech, description of how you see me, what you’re doing or will do, praise, flattery. I can imagine marvelous new things, with hands and a tongue like yours. Hmm, also, I enjoy eliciting pleasure from _you.”_

The Boggart pushed her up and rutted into her contemplatively, these options arrayed for her. “Hmm. _ Oh _, that could… yes…”

As the semen pushed out of Luna in gushes with the last thrusts dripping and drizzling down her crevices and along her torso, some new appendage came up from behind Luna and slicked itself in their ample juices before trailing slowly toward the tight pucker of her ass. 

Luna blinked. “A prehensile tail?”

The Boggart grasped her roughly by the hips and breasts, bracing. “Very astute,” she purred, before lancing up into the tight channel. 

Luna screamed and then lost track of herself a while.

##  _ ❧ _

When she regained full sense of herself, Luna assessed and categorized the actions that provoked the sensations that had sent her into a sort of Bacchic trance.

She was still, every ten seconds or so, being lifted up to let the Boggart thrust more fully into her, and now veritable rivulets of jism streamed every which way down her body. She was also being reamed quickly and to a staggering depth by the very agile tail. One set of hands remained on her hips and the other played at her chest, though one finger was wet in a way that suggested recent egress from her mouth. Her face was buried between the larger pair of breasts, her arms curled in an embrace of the smaller. The Boggart, below her, was _ purring _ . The vibration this sent through, oh, _ everything _ might explain why Luna felt an aching and exhausted series of aftershocks tearing slowly through her. 

“The knot is lessening now,” the Boggart said, lapping at her neck. “Tell me now, what think you of your childhood home?”

Luna blinked, noting the diminishing of the bulk within her and the sticky mess wetting her hair before she could get to that. “Em… the island?”

The next purr was punctuated with a contented sigh. “I have done it, then. I knew I could.”

It occurred to Luna that this wasn’t something the Boggart ever would have had occasion to attempt before. “I’m glad. It’s just… it’s just home, now, and I feel sad to have been away so long. We took the one tower, but it blew up in the war, and… the house built there since just isn’t home. And… _ well _...”

Luna was cut off by her own little shriek as her hips suddenly fell, viscous drops of fluid raining down with the tilt of her hips before the Boggart’s grasp tightened to catch her. “Ah,” the Boggart said, sounding a little sad. “And now, it is done.” 

Luna palpated her lower abdomen gingerly as the Boggart laid her on her back along the curl of its own body. “I have to introduce you, at some point, to Hermione, because she can help you. When I do, please don’t mention any specifics of this encounter until after you’ve made a good impression.”

The Boggart huffed. “You’re not _ really _frightened of her.” 

“No,” Luna said, turning to press her front to the Boggart’s as the other slid around and insinuated herself upright again, holding Luna in a dual embrace against her silken pelt and settling her back against the door. One band of arms was below Luna’s full moon, the other level with her bust. “I’m not.” Luna snuggled into the Boggart. “But I want her respect.”

Lulled despite the stickiness by the Boggart’s purring, the witch fell asleep.

##  _ ❧ _

When she woke, Luna heard running water and felt cleansing magic coursing over her. She’d been moved to the small divan in the house’s largest and most opulent bathroom, which had been modeled after the Prefect’s Bath in Hogwarts.

“Mistress should wake up now, please,” came a small, unfamiliar voice. “Please, mistress?”

Luna blinked awake, looking around her. “Oh. You must be..?” She held out her hand to shake the young elf’s.

He blinked up at her, face alight with joy at this unexpected gesture. “Went, Mistress. I am Went.”

Luna smiled. “Please, call me Luna.”

The elf’s huge eyes widened. “I’ll… try, Mis-, er, _ Luna _.”

A more familiar voice wandered nearer. “Reel back in your tongue, young one, the Mistress Luna does not enjoy groveling, and she’s already taken too many licks, hmm.” Kreacher came into view, shaking his head. “Mistress should take a bath. Savory pies are in the oven - young Took is a capable chef, hmm, yes, Kreacher will appreciate his help. Young Master Neville, though, has owled ahead and will be here soon, so into the tub with you, a murtlap soak, yes.”

The two elves helped her up and walked with her to see she didn’t stumble as she lowered herself into the steaming water with a sigh. 

“Shall Went help with the scrubbing?” The young elf asked, sounding hopeful. Kreacher shook his head, rolling his eyes. 

“This is a strange Mistress, Went. She does much for herself, doubtless, oh, _ doubtless _ to make elves suffer.” He gave Luna a sly little wink. “But she’s clean besides, just needs the aches soaked out. Let us go see to the closet, _ all _will need laundering, hmm, yes.” 

Kreacher took the younger elf around the shoulders and was walking him out the door when Luna straightened with a start. “Where’s-”

“The Phooka’s in the Mistress’s locket, yes. Worry not, yes, Kreacher did not throttle it, although,” the old elf turned back to her, shooing Went away and cracking his knuckles, looking down darkly, “Kreacher did _ strongly _ consider it, now help is here. Kreacher knows Mistress could have hardly have been forced into anything, wouldn’t _ need _ to be besides, and its is a sad tale, yes, Kreacher knows.”

Luna relaxed incrementally, smoothing her hand over the pendant and feeling an encouraging little jiggle. Then, she straightened again. “Kreacher, what did you say?”

Kreacher blinked at her blandly. “Mistress is too young to have failing ears, hmm, yes, perhaps Kreacher should call a healer…”

“Kreacher.” Luna said, her brows knitting more pleadingly than crossly.

Kreacher sighed. “Kreacher said the… _ Boggart… _ is in the locket, of course, Mistress Luna. Bathe now, yes?” He stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him as Luna settled back, deep in thought.

_ ❧ _

Luna had luxuriated a long while in the bath before drying herself, pulling on a simple knit dress of cobalt blue, and wandering down to the kitchen. She put Neville’s vase of orchids in the center of the table, smiling at the bustling industry of elves around her. 

Kreacher’s mouth twitched as he slid onto the bench across from her. “Mistress Luna did a great kindness to the Boggart, but Kreacher was sincere that that kindness gave Kreacher much occasion to reconsider whether he should dispatch the Boggart. Kreacher did not, no, because Kreacher _ knows _ Mistress has a soft heart, but please know I will not let it touch you again beneath _ my _roof.”

Luna smiled broadly, sweeping the dour little elf squirming and sputtering into a hug across the table. “Kreacher! You called it _ your _ roof! Hermione will be _ thrilled! _ And… you used the first person! _ ” _

“Mistress,” Kreacher whined, feeling he must be the most put-upon elf in the universe as he suffered her to hold him close. With great forbearance, he patted brusquely at her back. “Kreacher is not a... _ hugger _, Mistress.”

Luna let him go, beaming. “I apologize.”

Kreacher’s ears pinked. “There is no need. Kreacher is only pleased Mistress Luna is well. Just… well, here.” Kreacher pointed. “That is Went, who Mistress met, and at the oven now is Took. Their brother,” Kreacher paused to build suspense as Luna lent toward him, curious about the name, _ “Stoke _, is sweeping the chimneys.” The elder elf sniffed with dignity. “Stoke has said Kreacher need not worry about the fires anymore, and was quite insistent, yes, that all soot be thoroughly scrubbed at once. It’s only been… twenty, maybe thirty years?” 

Luna covered her face with her teacup, drinking deeply as she wondered at the state of a Wizarding flue left so long unswept. With fires going constantly year round, that could indeed have gone badly.

Then, Took wandered up with a beautiful chicken pie, little hens picked out in embellishments of the crust, and introduced himself. 

All three of the new elves, once Stoke could be found and scrubbed, sputtered and struggled through dinner as Luna insisted they sat and ate with her. Kreacher chortled and ate as the younglings weathered the witch’s barrage of questions about themselves, listening with interest and speaking only to insist that he, too, would help when she asked if they’d mind helping her open her old estate. The master needed little, now, and it had been since the Battle of Hogwarts since Kreacher had traveled. 

They finished with strawberry sorbet, which Luna praised until Took was pink to his toes. Finally, watching his young charges alternately squirm uncomfortably and salivate at the mysterious woman who didn’t smell quite a witch, Kreacher cleared his throat and stood.

“Kreacher will send up young Master Neville when he returns, as Mistress seems determined to be the most… hmm... _ welcoming _ of all beings.” He shook his head. “Time to wash dishes, younglings,” he said, trundling toward the sinks. 

##  _ ❧ _

Luna woke later to Neville sidling up behind her, nude and needing, and was already riding him before it occurred to her who she carried in the locket that swung and thumped rhythmically out then back between her breasts. 

“Neville,” she panted. “Can you… can you really..?”

He was lost a moment thrusting up into her before he replied. “I think… Yes.”

She looked down at him. “I fucked a Boggart in the closet this afternoon. It’s… it’s in my locket, right now.”

His rhythm hitched a little and then sped up. “Alright.”

“Alright?” She asked, needing reassurance as she reached behind her, cupping and fondling his soft sac.

“Do you still want me?” He asked breathlessly, his thrusts hammering up and bouncing her. He loved the incredible potency he felt, setting her breasts rebounding like this.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, finding a counterpoint and lifting his hand to her mouth to suck at his fingers.

“Will you be honest with me? Be open?” He asked, gripping her hips hard and beginning to rut up into her with wild abandon. No other woman, he wouldn’t even _ ask _ to so roughly handle _ any _other woman, but this one, this one made him reach to pummel her ever-harder in a way that made the lion within him roar.

“Yes!” She cried, arching with a foretremor. She felt so free, these words winging between them as he dashed himself at her gates, breaching them again and again and again.

“Love me?” He gasped, biting his lip in anticipation of a reply to make or break them as he thrashed her.

“Yes!” She wept, clenching in ecstasy. “Yes, always, yes,” she sobbed, her delicate inner thighs numbing exquisitely under his blows.

“_ Marry _ me, bear a Longbottom heir for me, and make siblings?” he ground out as he flipped her under him, knowing that she would only exalt in his abandon as he pounded into her wringing cunt. “Do as you will, _ who _ you will, but return to me? Forsake all purely human men but me? Grow old with me?”

She squealed when finally she could speak again, something fecund leaping within her at the thought of his child growing in her. “Yes, yes, yes… yesyesyesyes...YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

She arched into him helplessly, choking for breath and plastering her bosom to his sweating chest as she came again. 

He followed not long after,crying out as he lost himself within her and finally, finally, lowering himself down, pulling blankets up over them both as they convulsed, oversensitive, joined, and still twitching through tremors. Eventually, he found the strength to prop himself up over her on an elbow, gazing with bald adoration down into her dreamy smile, her hair fanning around her in debauched, sweaty snarls. “I’d have to be a fool, Luna, not to be grateful for you, and in any world, it’s your fool I’d prefer to be, besides,” he said, leaning down to kiss her soundly. “I’m… I’m over the moon and gone for you, siren, spirit, demon, veela, whatever you are, gone, so far gone, so in love, whatever you are, please never leave me, never let me be such a fool as to _ let _ you, not ever, not ever again.”

Her huge, pale sky eyes blinked up at him. “Alright.”


End file.
